Barsotti's

Barsotti's spent its first act as Carbone, and losing that name in a lawsuit turned out to be the best thing that happened to it. The renovation brought burgundy leather booths and a full bar, but the real upgrade is what never changed: the handmade pastas, which anchor the menu and earn that position every time. The lasagna is dense and meaty, the white linguine vongole runs light and garlicky rather than drowning in butter, and both taste like a kitchen that treats pasta as the whole point rather than a warm-up act.

Everything built around those pastas holds up its end. Crunchy calamari and crab claws in an herby salsa make smart starters, and the veal parm arrives genuinely oversized, spaghetti piled underneath instead of alongside. An all-Italian wine list lets you drink through the meal properly, starting crisp with an etna bianco and finishing structured with a barbaresco.

Two consecutive Michelin selections confirm what the food already argues: this is a full-scale Italian dinner done with real technique, in a room built to match it. Oak Lawn doesn't need the borrowed name anymore. Barsotti's earned its own.